Bratty Baby Brother
by Feagalad
Summary: "Hell was Lucifer's dominion and he ruled over it with total sovereignty. The only thing he couldn't do was leave and Michael, much to his everlasting rage, found that he was incapable of leaving either. And it was all the fault of the Winchesters..."


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><p><strong>Authors' Note: <strong>_This is a prequel to my fic **The Diary of Adam Milligan**__and a sequel to **On Earth As It Is In Heaven**. I would advise going and reading those stories first for some context, though this should make sense even as a stand-alone. Enjoy!_

**Disclaimer:** _I DON'T OWN! _

_**Read & Review**_

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><p>Hell was...well it was Hell. Dark. Hot. Evil. And the smell of burning flesh got into everything. Michael, eldest of the archangels, shifted his wings and grimaced when he saw the stains on the Grace-filled feathers. Hell, by definition, was the absence of everything good. It was the one place that Father had never gone and Michael could feel himself be eroded away every minute that he spent locked away here in the very belly of it. Little wonder Lucifer's rebellion had become such an utter perversion after he had been cast out. Hell would twist and corrupt the best of them.<p>

He glared down at the broken, bruised figure huddling in a corner of the steel box Lucifer had moulded the Cage into today. Hell was Lucifer's dominion and he ruled over it with total sovereignty. The only thing he couldn't do to the Cage was leave and Michael, much to his everlasting rage, found that he was incapable of leaving either. Perhaps Father was punishing him as well for his arrogance in assuming that he knew the script for the Apocalypse best? For forgetting that his function was to protect and watch over the humans created in his Father's image? To guide them towards the light?

Or perhaps it was just the fault of a Winchester.

More specifically it was the fault of the bastard child of a Winchester. Michael watched as the pitiful figure of Adam Winchester (the boy he had foolishly coerced into being his Plan B vessel) shivered as the temperature dropped as Lucifer completed another loop-de-loop in the other corner. It was all that little rat's fault. Michael could still remember it clear as day, despite the fact that countless centuries had passed since the start of his hellish incarceration. He had been molotoved by that little traitor, Castiel, and had for the first time in years felt unspeakable pain as the holy fire licked away at his vessel and reached his grace. He had healed quickly (no point in ruining the Milligan boy's body, after all) and had returned in time to see Sam Winchester preparing to leap into the Pit and drag his brother and nemesis back in with him.

He had objected then, full of righteous wrath and a desire to see the long-foretold apocalypse come to fruition at last (feeling that he was doing his Father's will) but Sam Winchester - typical human - had ignored him and set about tumbling back into the dark opening where the hot winds blew and the screams of the damned echoed. It was then that Adam Milligan had shown the first real spark of promise (something he had grossly underestimated the youngest spawn of John Winchester in possessing) and had melded with Michael long enough to nearly overtake his body again as they surged together as one to stop their brothers from vanishing into the depths of Hell.

Michael still couldn't quite explain what had happened. Adam hadn't wrestled control BACK from the archangel (certainly he had never felt the boy do so) but the actions of clutching desperately at the arm of Sam Winchester's jacket definitely was not his...and who else could he blame aside from the Milligan boy?

It was a perfect scapegoat. Michael could feel the ugly, tainting atmosphere of Hell eating away at his Grace. Spend time courting the Devil and you will become like him, after all, and the eldest archangel found that he was not at all sorry for the punishments he had dealt out to the two pathetic humans who had imprisoned him (HIM!) here.

And then Death, the old ass, had the audacity to call him a spoiled child. What did that relic know anyway? He was so out-of-touch with reality! And he had stolen Lucifer's favourite plaything, Sam from them...carrying his soul to freedom. Michael KNEW he should have ripped the wings out of Castiel whenever he had the chance!

There was a weak cough from Adam. A cough followed by something that sounded suspiciously like a whimper and Michael frowned. It wasn't even satisfying to punish the bastard these days because he barely made a sound (nothing like when he screamed for his brother as Sam writhed on the rack) and seemed to be nearly catatonic. How dull. If this Cage meant that nobody could die (ever) Michael would have just smote that little worm and put everybody out of their misery. But, alas, any injuries inflicted here, no matter how fatal, would heal and life would continue on. Nobody could escape from the Cage...not even in death.

With a shake of his wings, Michael turned his back on the pathetic mud-creation and focused on Lucifer who was now making it hail in one corner of the cage. He just wanted to kick that rebellious horror for ever turning his back on Father and Creation in the first place!

Lucifer looked up and smirked. "What? Why the poop face?"

Michael glared. "Shut up." He growled.

"Make me."

That was it! Michael's temper snapped like a taut band and he flew at his brother, locking them in yet another round of combat that tore still more chunks from their Grace...Lucifer's sick and twisted and Michael's tainted.

How long they fought, Michael did not know. Angels did not live in time the same way that the human creations did and Hell was a realm that existed out of set time. Everything was fluid here. All Michael knew was that one minute Lucifer's arm was around his throat and the next minute they were knocked into opposing ends of the cage as something (or someone) hurtled between them.

Dazedly, Michael blinked and shook his head...glancing at Lucifer who was doing them same. What in Father's name?!

Somewhere deep in the Cage, Adam Milligan screamed.

"Hey, hey...it's okay, buddy." That was a newcomer. A voice that sounded vaguely familiar to Michael...though it wasn't Death (not stuffy and disapproving enough) nor Castiel (not immature or blunt). Who was it?

"Whoa. Calm down! I'm just here to help. Gotta nip in and out before the big bros come back and...oh crap."

_Gabriel_?

Oh Father! Michael hadn't seen this brother in years, fearing him to be long since dead. Could it be?

He took to flight again, returning to the depths where he had last seen his former vessel. Adam lay there shaking, skin still flayed raw and weeping from the last time Lucifer had taken out his frustrations on the boy. The youngest Winchester was cringing against the wall, shrinking away from the individual who was reaching out a gentle hand towards him.

"Dude. Breath."

"No...no! Don't touch me!"

"Kid!"

"Gabriel?" Lucifer's mouth was hanging open and his eyes were bulging. Michael didn't think he'd ever seen his brother look so shocked...at least not for several millennium.

Gabriel, for his part, winced and got to his feet, turning back around to face his elder brothers. "Do you mind?" He said sharply. "I _was _trying to calm the kid down a bit after what you two douchebags did to him."

"I...I killed you!"

Michael looked sharply at Lucifer. "WHAT?!"

The third archangel rolled his eyes. "Oh sure. Lucy here gave me a real warm welcome...a nice blade right through the ol' ticker. Now if you'll excuse me..."

"But how are you alive?"

Gabriel huffed impatiently. "Dear old Dad...any more questions? No? Good!" He snapped his fingers and Michael felt something catch him by the wings and send him flying away from Gabriel and Lucifer. Looking down as he pinwheeled through the air (this was _most _undignified...he was going to kill Gabriel) he saw Lucifer get the same treatment from a bizarre silver metal contraption that looked vaguely humanoid.

"Good work, Megatron." Gabriel said, clicking his fingers and snapping the apparition away. Michael frowned. That was most certainly _not _the scribe of God! Was Gabriel high? Had he finally cracked like they all said he would? What in Father's name was going on?

It was then that Lucifer crashed into him with a groan and an 'Oof', the two of them going down in a tangle of wings, halos, and some very unsavoury curses.

That little brat!

Michael and Lucifer exchanged a look and, united for the first time in years (and over something OTHER than how best punish the upstarts who had dared to trap them here), took off for the bottom of the cage immediately. Lucifer was angrier than ever and was muttering out different fantasies for plucking out Gabriel's feathers one by one and Michael found that the image was most pleasing. Gabriel always _had _been an irritating little brat with his delusions and temper tantrums. Why had he even mourned whenever that childish trickster left Heaven? No WONDER Lucifer had stabbed him!

They skidded to a stop at the bottom of the cage and looked around. No sign of Gabriel anywhere, though it did stink of his grace. And fake orange. Lots of fake orange.

More importantly...Adam Milligan was gone.

"DADDAMMIT!"

Michael echoed Lucifer's sentiments, blasphemous though they were. Now it was apparent why Gabriel had popped in for a visit. He was here for the bastard Winchester!

Cursing and hissing like the snake humans thought he was, Lucifer took to the air again, searing around the edges of the Cage. Gabriel couldn't escape. He couldn't! If Michael with all his majesty and grace was unable to penetrate the walls of this Hell then surely hedonistic little Gabriel would fail also...

"HI-HO SILVER!" Gabriel whooped from somewhere invisible and Michael fell flat to the ground as a white horse stampeded over him, some human in a mask mounted on his back.

Curse Gabriel. He always had been melodramatic. Michael picked himself up off the ground painfully. "Lucifer!" He yelled. "He's getting away!" Oh no. No way, no how was that _pipsqueak _going to waltz right in and out of the Hell Michael had endured for centuries. It wasn't fair!

"A-ha!" Lucifer crowed in triumph from above and grabbed at thin air, Adam Milligan reappearing and screaming as he fell from the arms of Gabriel.

"Dude, bro!" The trickster said, annoyed, just before he kneed Lucifer between where the legs would be if he was in a vessel. "Watch the shirt." He then grabbed for Adam will a "Whoa there, buddy!" and caught the boy by the behind.

Michael blinked, nonplussed by the sight for a moment, and that was his undoing for Gabriel punched a hole in the top of the cage (Melodramatic, much?) and vanished through with a cackle and a gesture with his middle finger that Michael felt quite sure was most uncouth.

The opening snapped shut behind the youngest archangel, Lucifer crashing into the solid wall as he made a mad dash for freedom. Michael swore viciously, using words that he wasn't even aware he knew. Who cared if it was blasphemous and wrong? It wasn't like Father cared or was deserving of praise!

His Grace shuddered under the taint, fading further towards the sickly glow of his brother who lay there pounding on the wall and cursing everything from Father to Atropos to Gabriel himself. Behind them Gabriel's deranged illusions flickered out of existence, the blood on the floor of the Cage being the only evidence that anyone other than the two warring archangels had ever been there at all.

"YOU LET HIM ESCAPE!" Lucifer screamed, leaping at Michael in a whirlwind of rage and hatred.

"I LET HIM ESCAPE? WHAT ABOUT YOU?!"

Angel clashed with angel, Grace fought against Grace, and the battle raged on...two brothers locked in mortal combat for all of eternity. Somewhere between the screams and curses, in the quiet moments when they both crawled away to lick their wounds, Michael found that he missed having a Winchester or two around for at least then there had been somewhere to vent their anger aside from on each other. Curse Father and bratty baby brothers for ruining everything!


End file.
